


Easy Mac

by katrinawritesthings



Category: SHINee
Genre: Aromantic, Brotp, M/M, Pansexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 17:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14025426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katrinawritesthings/pseuds/katrinawritesthings
Summary: u kno when the kid you used to babysit just shows up on your doorstep one day like six years latertw for mentions of trans and homophobia“Taemin,” he says. Taemin winces, gripping his bag tightly to his chest. He doesn’t take his eyes from the coffee table. “Did you run away?” Jinki asks quietly.tumblr





	Easy Mac

Jinki’s easy mac rotates slowly in the microwave, the little container wiggling every few seconds as the base catches in the usual spots. Jinki leans sleepily against the opposite counter, tensing and untensing his knees as he waits. The movement makes the rest of him wiggle and his hip bump against the drawer handle next to him, but whatever. It doesn’t hurt yet. He’ll stop before it does to take out his little dinner and– **  
**

His doorbell rings suddenly, stopping him early as he winces and then frowns, confused. It’s almost nine. Who the heckie. Leaving his fork on the counter and the microwave still counting down four minutes, he heads out of his kitchen and to his front door. It’s as he’s twisting the doorknob to open it that he takes a moment to really hope that whoever is on the other side isn’t a murderer or something.

It’s not; what it is is something arguably more troubling.

It’s a kid.

Or, well, a teenager, thin and lanky with a longish red hair and a backpack pulled over their shoulder. They look at Jinki with big, dark brown eyes and a thick lip bitten between their teeth. Jinki looks back, extremely confused by the lack of a chocolate catalogue or anything likewise that would make this make at least some sort of sense.

“Hi Jinki,” they say.

Uh.

Oh.

What the fuck.

“Uh, hi,” he says for lack of anything better to say. Who the fuck. He frowns, lifting his hand to rub the back of his neck, but before he can ask, the kid starts talking again.

“Sorry, um, for just showing up like this, I know it’s late and we haven’t seen each other in, like, years, but, I didn’t know who else to come to, and–God, this is weird, I know, but–I just–can I like–stay here, maybe, for–even like, an hour, just–maybe?” They say all of that very quickly with one hand gripping the strap of their bag so tightly their knuckles have turned pale. They’ve also blinked, like, fifty-seven times, and Jinki feels an incredulous realization creeping up on him. What the fuck. No way.

“I–what’s your name?” he asks slowly. The kid’s shaky, hopeful smile falters; their free hand opens and closes at their side and they swallow thickly.

“You,” they say, and shake their head. “You don’t–you don’t remember me.” They take a step back, a step down from Jinki’s tiny porch. Their hand comes up to rub their nose as their cheeks flare up red. Jinki recognizes that look immediately in a rush of memories, but–“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–I’l just–I’ll go, I’m sorry, sorry.” They turn to leave and Jinki finds himself automatically stepping halfway out of his door and reaching for them.

“No no no, Taemin, Taem, wait,” he says quickly. Taemin stops and looks back at him with those eyes, and fuck, those eyes are so familiar now. Jinki doesn’t know how he didn’t notice immediately. “I remember you,” he says. “I was your babysitter for like. A year and a half when you were young. Er. Younger.” He remembers. Tiny ten year old Taemin with a bowlcut, every weekday during the school year for a few hours each day before Jinki moved away. Teenager Taemin’s face now breaks into a weak smile of relief as he turns fully back around.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he breathes, lifting his hand to run his fingers through his hair. “Hi,” he says again.

“Hi,” Jinki repeats slowly. Even with his memories, he’s still confused. He looks Taemin up and down again in the dim light of his porch lamp; he’s a bundle of nerves, trembling hands and lips bitten puffy with worry. “Are you okay?” he asks quietly. “How–why are you–here?”

“Um,” Taemin says. His deep breath is shaky as he rubs his nose again. “It’s. Complicated, kind of,” he mumbles. “Can I–come in?” he asks again. He gestures weakly at Jinki’s living room behind him. Jinki glances in there, looks back, sucks the insides of his cheeks for thought.

“I mean,” he says. He doesn’t know what’s going on, and letting kids into his home alone isn’t really something a responsible adult should do, he thinks, but. Leaving a kid out on his own in the dark definitely isn’t something he’s going to do. “Sure, yeah,” he says, stepping aside and holding the door open wider. “Take a seat,” he says. Taemin slips inside, twisting slightly as he passes Jinki so as to not brush against him, and shuffles further into the room.

“Thanks,” he breathes as he goes. Jinki closes his front door gently and turns a lamp on as Taemin sinks onto his couch. He shrugs his backpack off of his shoulder and just holds it in his lap instead, little fingers gripping the material as he takes deep breaths. Jinki leans on the arm of the couch further away from him, worriedly watching him worry. He doesn’t know what to say.

“You dyed your hair,” he tries. “It looks nice.” The chestnut red is a good look for him, Jinki thinks, even if the strands are mussed and messy. He got taller, too, but Jinki feels like that would be too cliché of an obvious change to mention. He can’t help but notice Taemin’s long legs sprawled awkwardly out in his skinnies, though, or the new angles and lines of his face. He’s still young, definitely, but no longer a squishy bub made up of baby fat and chubby cheeks. Taemin glances at him, lifts his hand to again push through his hair.

“Um,” he says. “Yeah.” He looks down to his bag again, feet tapping nervously against Jinki’s carpet. Jinki watches him for a moment before he sighs slowly.

“Taemin,” he starts gently. He notes how Taemin winces, but before he can say anything more, there’s a long beep from behind him. He hesitates and turns around, confused for a second, before he remembers. “My easy mac,” he whispers. Shit. “Uh, give me a minute,” he tells Taemin, holding a finger up even as he scuttles to the kitchen. Heck.

As he pops open the door and looks around for the cheese packets, he bites the insides of his cheeks. He hasn’t seen Taemin in… fuck, in he doesn’t know how long. Not since he moved, which was seven ish years ago, he thinks. He didn’t go far; just two cities over, but too far for him to keep his job of looking after Taemin every day. He thought he’d never see the kid again, and to have him return to Jinki’s life like _this_  is far more than surprising. It’s downright unsettling. He doesn’t even know how Taemin knew where to find him.

Instead of just going back to Taemin with one bowl of food just for himself, he separates it into two bowls to share. Then he hovers for a moment looking for something to go with it before he just shrugs and roughly chops an apple into slices. Whatever. Good enough. He gathers up the three bowls and shuffles back to the living room, where Taemin is still hugging his bag to his chest on the couch. He’s tapping out a text on his phone, but looks up when Jinki approaches.

“Here, Taem,” he says quietly, holding out a bowl. Taemin hesitates, but takes it, poking at the food anxiously with the fork.

“You’re a grown ass adult and you’re having easy mac for dinner?” he asks skeptically. His voice is deeper than it used to be. Jinki blinks, then shrugs. Yeah. Pretty much.

“Being an adult means there’s no one around to stop me from eating nothing but easy mac for every meal,” he mumbles. Honestly it’s not working out that great for him. He should really get onto the whole veggie train thing. One day. Maybe. “How old are you again?” he asks to cover his embarrassment. “Sixteen? Seventeen?” Those seem about right.

“Sixteen,” Taemin says quietly. Jinki nods. Yeah, okay. “What about you?” Taemin asks. Jinki coughs into his shoulder. Too old to be living off of easy mac, for one.

“Not forty yet,” is what he says. Taemin snorts at his answer but doesn’t say anything in reply. He just eats, slowly, nibbling one little macaroni at a time. It’s a little awkward to just sit in silence and eat, but Jinki feels like it would be more awkward to try to talk and eat at the same time, so he follows suit.

The more he glances at Taemin out of the corner of his eye, the more fucked up this seems. He’s almost an hour away from his old home and he knows Taemin can’t have driven here. Every few minutes Taemin looks at his phone but Jinki strongly suspects that it’s not his parents that he’s checking in with. He’s too anxious, too quiet, too twitchy in everything he does.

By the time he finishes Taemin is only a little bit through his own bowl and is looking mildly queasy. When he puts his bowl down on the coffee table, Taemin glances at him, back to his own, and copies him. He looks the exact same kind of guilty for not finishing as he used to when he was younger and Jinki doesn’t say anything about it. Taemin grips his hands together, puts them on his knees, taps his fingers nervously against his jeans. After another long, silent, tense moment, he reaches forward and pokes an apple slice in the bowl. He picks it up for a second, grimaces, and puts it back down. Jinki rubs his chin and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. There are a few things that Jinki thinks could have happened so he goes with the best case one to start with.

“Taemin,” he says. Taemin winces, gripping his bag tightly to his chest. He doesn’t take his eyes from the coffee table. “Did you run away?” Jinki asks quietly.

Taemin’s eyes scrunch shut tight. That’s enough of a confirmation for Jinki and he sighs, leaning back against the couch. He stays quiet and just waits for Taemin to actually say something. It takes a moment, but eventually, he takes a deep, shaky breath and opens his eyes again. This time, he actually looks at Jinki, fear and guilt and regret written all over his face.

“I almost accidentally came out to them, Jinki,” he says. His voice cracks, almost croaks out of him, and while he takes a moment to swallow and rub his throat Jinki takes a moment to rub his hand over his face. Ahh, shit. “I almost–fucking did it,” Taemin continues. “They were saying some really transphobic just–garbage, and I was trying to explain to them why it was bad, and somehow that led to me almost accidentally telling them I’m–not trans, or, I don’t. Know if I’m–but I almost told them I was–that I’m–I almost said I was–”

He can’t even bring himself to say the word, Jinki realizes. Even to Jinki, he can’t make it come out of his mouth.

“But I–they were pushing about it and I was denying it and I was so fucking–scared so I just picked a fight about something else instead, something stup–no, something ridiculous, and then I just–I packed some shit? And snuck out? Like–just–just to run away for a day, or for the weekend, so maybe–maybe, like, they’d forget about–about me, being–and they’d only be mad about me running away and not–or they’d be so happy that I came back that they don’t, like. But, God, I’m just–” He shakes his head and puts his face into his hands, fingers gripping tightly into his hair.

“Just fucking saying it out loud I realize how fucking _fucked up_  this plan was, God–I fucked up, Jinki, I’m so fucking–fucked, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–come to you like this, God, it’s just. You’re the only one I know that’s–” He looks up again, to meet Jinki’s eyes. His lips are bitten wet and swollen again already. Jinki can’t think of anything to say, but Taemin hasn’t stopped yet, so he doesn’t have to worry about that yet.

“You’re the only one I know that’s. That’s–that’s–not straight,” Taemin whispers. “Besides–that’s not a school. Friend. Because my parents _know_  my friends and if I’d gone to them then they would–but they’d never think of you, and–this is fucked up, I know, you don’t need me here like this, but.” He swallows thickly. “You were the first person I ever knew, ever, that was–was–like me, and I knew you would–understand, but just. God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry, sor–fuck, hold on, sorry.” He closes his eyes again, lifting a shaky hand to press against his forehead. His other hand presses lightly against his throat, thumb rubbing up and down as he tries to swallow. “I get–I get dizzy when I’m nervous,” he stammers.

Jinki still doesn’t know what to say, but he does know what to do. Sliding closer to Taemin on the couch, with one hand he rubs the heel of his palm up Taemin’s back, between his shoulderblades, in slow strokes. With his other he gently scratches the back of his head where his neck meets it. When he opens his mouth to sing softly, he finds that he doesn’t remember the words to Frère Jacques at all. He just hums it instead, low and soothing, as Taemin shakes next to him.

It takes three and a half loops of the little song for Taemin to take a deep breath and sit up straight again. Jinki scoots a little bit away to give him space as he fans his face and rubs his eyes.

“Sorry if it wasn’t okay for me to, like, touch you,” he says quietly. He frowns at his hands, only just realizing now that he probably should have asked permission. “It’s just. That’s how I always used to calm you down from panic attacks, so.” He shrugs. At least it still works.

“Panic attacks?” Taemin asks. He looks at Jinki with a confused little frown. Jinki blinks back at him.

“Yeah,” he says. “When you get all hot and your vision goes blurry and your mouth gets all dry and you can’t understand words for a little bit?” He lists all of the things that he remembers tiny Taemin telling him about years ago. He also leaves out the part about suddenly needing to pee because he figures Taemin will ask to use his bathroom if he needs to. “You’ve had them since you were a kid,” he says, lifting his hand to rub where his shoulder meets his neck. Something seems off about the way Taemin only looks eve more confused at this information. “I told your parents about–did they never? Take you to a doctor? For meds or a diagnosis or anything?” he asks. “You had, like, textbook anxiety.”

Taemin continues to just look at him after he says that. Jinki frowns back, and eventually, Taemin sighs, shakes his head, and slouches back against the couch.

“Listen, my dude, if you think gay shit is the only shit my parents are garbage about you would be extremely mistaken,” he mumbles. Jinki snorts. That makes sense, honestly. He considers pressing gently for more about the anxiety, but decides against it. If Taemin never knew about it because his parents dismissed it or whatever then at least he does now. He draws one leg up onto the couch to cross it under himself.

“So it is _gay_  stuff?” he asks curiously. “Or is there a more specific thing you accidentally came out as? If you want to tell me, I mean,” he adds quickly when Taemin glances at him. “You don’t have to,” he says. Asking Taemin for those personal details when they’re half the reason he ran away in the first place probably isn’t the best of ideas. Taemin shrugs, though, and wiggles his shoes off before he brings both feet up on the couch to hug his knees.

“Pan,” he says quietly. “Sexual,” he adds. “And I think. A little bit… aro. Maybe.” He shrugs again, avoiding eye contact. Jinki smiles encouragingly anyway.

“Neat,” he says. “My boyfriend is a little bit aro,” he says. Taemin gasps softly.

“You have a boyfriend?” he asks. He squishes his cheeks with his hands, eyes big and round, lips finally quirked up into the tiniest of smiles. Jinki smiles wide back and nods.

“Mmhmm,” he says. He pulls out his phone and slides open the lock to open up his pictures. “This is him. Jonghyun,” he says, showing Taemin a shot of him and Jonghyun out at the park together, smiling in the sun. Taemin smiles a little more at the picture, looking between the two of them with a fond warmth that Jinki knows he’s feeling in his soul. “He hates the sun, honestly,” Jinki says, taking his phone back. “Sensitive skin and seasonal depression. But he only complained a little bit that day.” He looks at the pictures himself for a few moments, just taking in how gorgeous his babe is, before he slots his phone back into his pocket. “It was fun,” he tells Taemin. “We’re actually in the process of moving him into this house so we can live together finally.”

“That’s so nice,” Taemin sighs wistfully. “I’d always think of you having a cute babe,” he says. He rests his cheek on his knee so it smushes up a little, making his smile a little lopsided. “Whenever I remembered you,” he says. “You were the only, you know, adult that I ever really knew that wasn’t one of the straights. And the first one. So, you know. Representation or whatever.” He shrugs, tightens his arms around his legs. “I always wanted to imagine you just… happily gay. And loving yourself. And everything. I’m glad I was right.” As he speaks his hand drifts towards his phone again. Jinki stays silent while he checks it, first to give him privacy and second to really process the things he just said.

He’s never really seen himself in that way before. As representation. He knew he was super chill and casual about his gayness to Taemin when he was little, but that was just him being an open and honest caretaker for a little nugget child. He never once thought that he was the first–or  _only_ –influence in Taemin’s life. All these years, apparently he’s been Taemin’s shining gay of hope and he never even knew it. Honestly, his depressed ass still does have problems loving himself a lot, but if he’d known that he was so important to Taemin he might be a bit better at it.

As it is, he’s pretty sure that they still have a problem here. Taemin bites his lip as he frowns at his phone, thumbs typing out a quick message. Jinki hopes he’s telling a friend where he is just in case. He’s not a murderer or anything but Taemin doesn’t know that. He brings his thumb to his mouth to chew on his nail as he thinks.

“What…,” he says slowly after he sees Taemin close his messages. Taemin looks back to him with questioning eyes and he points a questioning finger at him. “What was your plan?”he asks. “After coming here? Like, what did you want me to do?” he really doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here at all. He’s not going to call Taemin’s parents; he won’t break Taemin’s trust like that and he doesn’t think he even kept their number in the first place. Taemin’s definitely not going to give it to him.

“Um,” Taemin says. He rubs his phone screen on his thigh and focuses his attention on that instead of on Jinki. “Plan A,” he says, “was to spend the night here, grab a bus back home tomorrow, deal with… everything then,” he says. Jinki frowns. Spend the night here. Some missing kid that isn’t his just. Sleeping on his couch. That’s not dangerously incriminating at all.

“Plan B,” Taemin says, “was to grab another bus to a kind of old friend that moved to this city a few years ago, and see if I can crash with them instead.” He shrugs at that with a little grimace. “Plan C was to find a 24-hour something to spend the night in.”

“You really didn’t think this all through that well, did you?” Jinki hums. He props his chin in his hand and cocks a brow. He’s amused, a little, at the mess of Taemin’s ideas, but mostly he’s stalling for time to think. He can’t just… let Taemin go out on his own again. It’s way too late.

“I was… panicking, I guess,” Taemin mumbles. He sighs and shakes his head. “If I really can’t stay that’s fine, really, you don’t have to be responsible for me just because I showed up unannounced and had a panic attack on your couch,” he says. Jinki snorts. That’s one way of putting it. “You were only plan A because I knew they wouldn’t think of you or know where to find you,” Taemin shrugs.

“Yeah, about that,” Jinki says. He frowns in confusion, tilting his head. “How  _did_ you know where to find me?” he asks. Taemin rubs his nose a little embarrassedly.

“When you moved all those years ago you sent me a letter once,” he says. “To say goodbye. And I, uh. Kept it. This whole time.”

“Oh,” Jinki says. “Aw.” He smiles fondly. That’s sweet. Taemin blushes a faint pink, though, embarrassed by his sentiment, and looks away for a quick moment.

“A-anyway,” he says when he looks back.”So, um. Can I? Stay? Please?” His expression is hopeful and his little hands grip nervously in his bag. Jinki sucks the inside of his cheeks, looking back at him searchingly.

“I mean,” he says, and leans back with a sigh. He can’t and won’t call Taemin’s parents, and he can’t let him go out on his own in the dark, and he can’t just take him to the police station, and driving a runaway kid somewhere else and leaving him there feels much worse than just letting one crash on his couch for the night. He doesn’t really have a choice. Taemin is lucky that it’s Saturday and he doesn’t have to be at work tomorrow, honestly.

“Yeah, I guess,” he sighs, shrugging and running his hand through his hair. “Just… I’ll see you to the bus stop in the morning,”

“Okay,” Taemin says quickly. “Sure, yeah, fine.” He nods up and down very fast, hands clenched tightly together. “ _Thank you_ , Jinki,” he says. It’s a heavy breath of relief out of his mouth and Jinki can’t find himself to be anything but fond.

“No problem,” he says. He’s a good kid. He shouldn’t have to have any more anxiety and stress than he’s already had this night. Jinki just hopes that sending back home tomorrow isn’t going to be worse than letting him stay. 

**Author's Note:**

> #listen this au started as just... babysitter jinki showing ten year old taem buffy....   
> #and that was supposed to be it #and then i didnt write that or make any mention of it whatsoever lmao   
> #but babysitter jinki showing tiny taemin buffy and taem being so uwu about willow and tara   
> #and jinki stopping it before tara died and taem being grumpy and jinki being like trust me its for ur own good   
> #anyway present day jinki gets taem a blankie and goes to bed bc hes a tired human that needs his rest   
> #and taem curls up on his couch and does some homework and watches some tv and falls asleep   
> #and in the morning jinki gives him some cereal and makes some bacon and they just sit and talk for a lil bit about just stuff   
> #gay things and school things and life things and how taem went and watched the rest of buffy later and felt Regret   
> #taem tells jinki that hes not ready to handle the pressure of college at all but hes looking into community colleges anyway   
> #just to get away from the parentals and one of them is a college in jinkis city   
> #and he wiggles like um if i do actually go to that one can i mayb visit u??? sometimes??? maybe???   
> #and jinkis like : ) ye bc he wouldnt mind buying the lil nugget a coffee or something sometime and listening to his problems more   
> #and he drives taem to the bus stop and makes sure he gets on the one going home and gets his email   
> #and taem emails him later to tell him that hes safe at home nd his parents havent even mentioned the gay stuff which is good   
> #and its still weird but its nice


End file.
